Chapter Seven

The grunting guard had risen from his stool quick enough to tip it over, leaving it rolling back and forth. The explosion had been loud in the caves but had not caused anything more than dust to spill from the cracks in the ceiling. Treville appreciated the care that his men had taken with their distraction. He suspected Porthos was responsible for the size of the explosion, finding the careful balance between too much and too little to make the desired effect.

The guard looked back at him for a few seconds, his slow mind trying to work out what to do with his prisoner. As he stared a couple of other men ran passed obviously scared. The man glanced at them before making one final look at Treville. Perhaps it was the fact that his captive was bound or the second explosion that made the decision for the guard. He lumbered off toward the entrance of the cave.

Treville had flinched himself when the second explosion, which felt closer, rocked the caves slightly. A few small pieces of stone fell around him as the sound died down. But Treville recovered quickly, he slipped his hands from the rope and pulled Aramis' dagger from his boot. The slim blade would not help him in a sword fight, but it would help him if he needed to deal with someone quietly.

He paused at the entrance of the side cave. A glance further into the caves made him step back a pace. Three men were rushing towards him. Two went straight past, running in fear of a collapse in the cave system or worried that an army had arrived to fight them. The third man, Treville recognised as his original guard. Carlos spotted him peering around the rock. The man changed his direction and headed for him. Perhaps he thought he would be rewarded for ensuring their prisoner did not escape. Herrera might promote him.

But Treville knew he could not let Carlos take him captive again. As the guard rushed into the cell Treville was quick and decisive in his attack. Grabbing the man from behind he plunged the dagger into his throat once before pulling it out and aiming a second thrust to the man's heart. Carlos collapsed without a word, unconscious before he hit the ground, to be dead in minutes.

Treville undid the man's cloak and swung it over his shoulders, keeping his head down as he ran from the cave. He deliberately mixed in with the other fleeing men. He knew he could slip away from them in the confusion that his Musketeers had successfully caused.

On reaching the entrance he quickly glanced around. Athos was engaged fighting a couple of the more loyal mercenaries. Treville could not see which of the men Athos was fighting but they were making the swordsman work.

Porthos was on the ground a few yards away trying to get to his feet. He had obviously been caught in the explosion, he was covered in dirt and debris but was moving. D'Artagnan was nearby fighting off a couple of men who appeared to have wanted to take advantage of Porthos' inability to fight back.

But he had his orders. His men had the fight under control. The chaos had been orchestrated. He cursed to himself, his men were dispensable, he was not. He had to remind himself that he had vital information for the King. He could not risk being mortally wounded by trying to help his men. They wanted him to get away from the fight. Treville, reluctantly, followed their plan. He moved off, leaving fight behind him, stepping off the path when none of the mercenaries were near him and starting to make his way to the shepherd's hut.

He just hoped all his men would meet him there.

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Athos was aware of Porthos rushing passed to set the second charge, he was aware of d'Artagnan despatching a few of the mercenaries and probably being responsible for a few more running away in fear. He was also aware of Porthos being caught in the second blast and d'Artagnan being forced to defend the disorientated man as he tried to get to his feet.

What Athos did not know was if the plan had actually worked.

Had Treville escaped?

Was Aramis potentially bleeding to death somewhere out of sight for nothing? Had Porthos been injured in vain? Was d'Artagnan fighting to help a man escape who was already dead?

The two men in front of him were making him work. One man, younger than himself and wearing a cleaner yellow scarf than the rest of the men had an enthusiasm that made up for his lack of footwork. The blows were good and strong, but his balance was off. Each strike of his sword left the young man adjusting his feet to compensate. If Athos were only fighting the young man he could have easily taken him down within a minute of their fight starting. But the second man knew what he was doing. The scarred man had clearly been a soldier. He had seen battles. The man was skilled and even alone would have kept Athos busy for some time. But with the help of the younger man, Athos was struggling.

They had moved away from the cave entrance. Athos suspected the scarred man, who was clearly a man of intelligence had engineered the move to avoid any further explosion. Athos knew there would not be any, but he was pleased that they had made the mercenary wary.

The ground was solid, but the blasts had left a sprinkling of small rocks across it, making for difficult foot placement. Several times both the scarred man and he had been forced to adjust their feet, kicking stones aside. The men were evenly matched. Although Athos hoped that once he had dealt with the younger man, he could better the older mercenary.

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Treville was glad his legs had not been bound for hours. When he had first got free of the ropes he had been full of energy as he escaped the cave and worried about his men. But after walking quickly through the woods towards the shepherd's hut he was quite uncomfortable. His shoulders ached from being pulled back and his wrists were raw from tugging at the ropes whilst restrained.

The three tall trees that Aramis had described were easy to spot. He headed towards them but was careful to check that he was not being followed frequently. He stopped occasionally and waited, listening intently for telltale sounds that any of the mercenaries were pursuing him. When he was sure he had escaped without any of the fighting or fleeing men noticing Treville broke into a jog. He wanted to get undercover as soon as he could.

The thick trees gave way to a collection of smaller bushes and shrubs, still big enough for a man to hide amongst but spread out enough that an ambush would be difficult. The shepherd's hut was nestled on the edge of the clearing, a thicker darker wood behind it. Treville guessed the shrubs and bushes had sprung up since the shepherd and his sheep had left the area.

The hut was quite dilapidated. The wood was starting to rot in places, but the stonework was still whole. But the thing that drew Treville attention and made him break into a run was the figure slumped in front of the door.

He had not seen Aramis outside the cave fighting and he now knew why. Aramis appeared to have reached the hut but been unable to get the door open, collapsing where he stood, one hand still on the handle. His other hand was wrapped around him. Treville tried to guess where Aramis had been injured as he reached the injured man.

'Aramis…'

The Musketeer managed to turn his head and look at Treville. He blinked a couple of times but did not respond. He was pale. Treville looked at Aramis' hand, he could see blood seeping between his fingers and soaking his doublet.

'Let's get you inside,' said Treville as he gently peeled Aramis' hand from the door handle.

Treville pushed the door open with ease. He pulled Aramis up to stand, taking most of the man's weight as they crossed the threshold.

The single-roomed hut had a low bed along one wall and a small table and chair next to a cupboard by the only window. Treville noted the few provisions that had been left. Aramis' medical bag and two water skins along with a small parcel of what he guessed was food.

Aramis tried to push away from him as they reached the bed.

'Let me see to it, Aramis.'

But Aramis tried to push him away again.

'No…' the injured man moaned.

Treville grabbed Aramis' hand and pushed it down. The pale Musketeer was unfocused. He was looking around the room, looking at him but not seeing anything.

'Aramis, look at me. You've been shot...I think...but you're injured. Let me see to it.'

'Got to reach the Captain…' Aramis mumbled and tried to pull himself up to stand.

'No, Aramis, you've got to stay there. You saved me. I'm safe.'

Aramis continued to mumble and try to escape his grasp. Treville wanted to look at the wound which still appeared to be bleeding. Aramis could bleed to death in front of him if he did not do something to help him. But the injured and confused man would not keep still.

Pushing Aramis down with one hand Treville managed to undo his doublet and push the leather aside revealing a blood-stained shirt. He pulled the shirt loose of Aramis' breeches and pushed it away from the wound causing Aramis to moan in pain as the fabric pulled at some of the dried blood.

Treville sighed when he saw the wound. A furrow had been cut across Aramis' side by a gunshot. It was deep but could not be stitched. All Treville could do was clean it and bind it as tightly as he could without compromising Aramis' breathing.

If Aramis was still and compliant dealing with the wound would have been easy, but the confused man kept moving and trying to sit up despite the action obviously causing him pain.

Treville knew that he needed to keep Aramis still, but did not want to knock him out, which would have been the easiest option open to him. He wished the injured soldier would pass out from the pain, but the stubborn man seemed determined to stay awake and participate in the rescue.

The rescue that had already been successful.

After pushing Aramis firmly down for the third time Treville grabbed his discarded weapons belts. Even whilst acting undercover Aramis had kept hold of his own weapons. He quickly pulled the guns and sword from their places and threaded the leather straps around the sides of the wooden bed. Aramis was already trying to sit up again. But Treville firmly grabbed his left wrist and pinned it to the bed, buckling the leather belt around it as tightly as he could without harming his uncooperative patient.

Aramis started to fight against him, but Treville had the upper hand. He hated restraining Aramis but could see no other option. The wound needed to be dealt with and at that moment he was alone. Treville had no idea how long it would be before help arrived.

Once fully restrained Aramis pulled at the belts, twisting his hands and arms. Treville suspected he would be putting dressings on Aramis' wrists before long.

'I'm sorry,' he said, even though he was sure Aramis could not understand him.

'Let me go,' said Aramis as he continued to struggle.

'Aramis look at me, you're safe.'

Treville knew it was no use. He sighed. As he was about to start cleaning the wound Treville noticed a shadow move past the window.

Aramis chose the same moment to hiss in pain as he tried to sit up. Treville moved back to Aramis and pushed him back down, covering his mouth with his hand. The action caused Aramis to fight back harder.

Treville hoped whichever mercenary was outside would just carry on past the hut and not try to enter it.

Keeping Aramis as still as he could with one arm, Treville grabbed the marksman's gun and aimed it at the door as he watched the handle being turned.

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Authors note: Thanks again for the reviews. The last two chapters will go up tomorrow at some point (subject to real life getting in the way of course!).